


Crayon Box

by yet_intrepid



Series: Hurt/Comfort December [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Neglect, Poverty, Pre-Series, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dad's card won't swipe right, Sam's crayons are almost all broken, <i>and</i> they had to sleep in the car last night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crayon Box

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt eleven: trapped together.
> 
> I am still going to try to finish this by the end of December. Heh. Good luck, me.

Sam’s looking out the window. Or he’s trying to look, anyway.  All the rain coming down makes it kinda hard.

“When’s Dad coming back?” he asks.

“Soon,” says Dean.

Sam isn’t sure that’s true. Dad is out there in the rain, walking all the way back to the last gas station. It’s a long way. And if the card won’t swipe right this time, either, it’ll probably be even longer.

He hopes the card swipes right. Last night they had to sleep in the car. Sam’s pretty sure that means they’re poor. That’s what kids at school say, anyway. Normal people have houses but sometimes poor people don’t because they can’t pay for them. They can’t pay for new backpacks, either, or shoes that fit right, or big boxes of new crayons.

Sam sighs. He only has two crayons left that aren’t broken. Maybe he can get Dean to ask Dad to get him new ones. He knows Dad won’t listen to him, but sometimes if Dean says it...

“Hey Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I have new crayons for when we start at the new school?”

Dean stares at him for a second. “What for?”

“For school,” Sam explains. He tries to be patient. “Like when you do math and use the answers to color by number.”

“Oh.” Dean looks away. “You’ve got crayons, Sammy.”

“They broke. I only have two left.”

“You gotta make ’em last.”

“I tried!”

Dean sighs. “We can’t get new crayons right now.”

“Why?” Sam asks. “Because Dad’s card won’t swipe right?”

“Yeah,” says Dean. He sounds really tired. “Don’t worry, they’ll fix it soon.”

“But he has to use it for gas.”

“Yeah.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

Dean shrugs. “He’ll figure it out. We won’t be stuck here forever, okay?”

Sam isn’t sure about that. “Do you think we’re gonna have to sleep in the car again?”

“Uh,” says Dean. “Maybe.”

“But not without Dad, right.”

“Right.”

“Dean, are we poor?”

“Course not. Where’d you hear that?”

“At school. The kids said if you can’t pay for things, you’re poor. And we can’t pay for gas or a motel room or new crayons or—or lots of things.”

Dean frowns. “We ain’t poor, Sam. Kids at school don’t know shit.”

“You aren’t supposed to say _ain’t_.”

“Whatever.”

Sam sighs. “Whatever. I’m tired, Dean.”

“So go to sleep.”

“I wanna sleep in a _bed_.”

“Then wait. Might be a while, though.”

The rain’s still pounding down outside. Sam stares at it for a minute before looking back over at Dean.  “So Dad’s not coming back soon?”

Dean shifts uncomfortably. “Didn’t say that.”

“Whatever.” Sam curls up in the corner of the seat best as he can. They’re stuck here. Stuck like crayons in a box.

He might as well sleep.

“Night, Dean,” he says.

“Night, Sam.”

Last thing Sam sees is Dean looking out the window, waiting for Dad to come trudging back through the rain.


End file.
